


do you?

by carnivorousBelvedere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vegas, Bars, Bartender!Dave, Casinos, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Gangsters, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Las Vegas, Lingerie, M/M, Pining, Pole Dancing, Stripper!Dave, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, inaccurate representations of strip clubs, lap dance, security guard!Karkat, something fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22920490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivorousBelvedere/pseuds/carnivorousBelvedere
Summary: During daylight hours, Dave Strider works as a bartender in the Maxina, a new casino on the Las Vegas Strip.At night, he secretly makes a little cash on the side taking his clothes off under the name "Red".When he accidentally overhears a plan to rob the Maxina, he knows he has to tell casino security enforcer Karkat Vantas, who he just so happens to have a crush on.The only problem ishow.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 42
Kudos: 326





	1. do you want me?

**Author's Note:**

> [do you want me?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ku3JbhWUwsg)  
> 
> 
>   
> some on-brand Belvederian identity porn fueled by a trip to Vegas  
> I am so lucky to have friends I can throw literally any idea at and they'll be like MORE PLS, you guys are the best

Las Vegas. 

To some people, Las Vegas is a glittering jewel in the desert, with shimmering, brightly lit towers of hotel rooms above lavish casinos. It’s a vacation, with shows and buffets and entertainment that appeals to any and all ages. 

To others, it represents excessive opulence and immorality and pursuits that capitalize on the insistent sexualization and the fault of man. 

Then to some people, like Dave Strider, it’s home.

Dave dumps tequila in one cup while pouring vodka in another, drinks for two of the bar’s patrons sitting in one corner playing video poker. He’s wearing his ‘uniform’, which thankfully consists of a deep red button down with rolled up sleeves tucked into black slacks that end with dress shoes. The bar is a bit of a contrast to the brightness of the rest of the casino, an old saloon style bar called Salt Row. Dave likes the job for the most part. Las Vegas casino strip work is a good gig if one doesn’t mind all the rules and regulations and the possibility of your higher up being a mob boss. 

But those are minor details, and Dave is a little person in the grand scheme of this place. He’s just here to make his cut and move on. 

It’s a slow day, so he’s making himself look busy polishing glasses. The Maxina is the newest casino on the strip and as such he’s got to keep up appearances. Thankfully it looks like he only has about an hour more on his shift, at which time he’ll leave and go to his other job. 

The bar itself is tucked in a corner of the hotel first floor on a raised platform that overlooks the gambling floor. From here, Dave watches dealers flip cards over and over for people playing blackjack or toss chips around like crazy over the craps tables. 

Everyone knows that casinos have insane security. Cameras poised at every angle, over every table and every game. Every hand motion is recorded and tracked to ensure there is never a problem should a patron have an issue. 

All of this to ensure one thing: _the house always wins_. 

What most people don’t tend to pay attention to is the other more hands-on, physical kind of security. The men in dark clothing with tucked away radios that wander around in the periphery, making sure no one is behaving in ways they shouldn’t. If visitors and patrons are acting in such a fashion, it is their job to take care of it, and in a generally discreet manner. 

One such member of the security detail at the Maxina is currently walking over to the bar from where he had been posted up in between the poker and blackjack tables. Dave tries not to look too excited about this, but he does smile as casino security enforcer and part time loss prevention contractor Karkat Vantas seats himself in front of Dave’s permanent post at the bar. 

“What’ll it be,” Dave asks, coming over to where Karkat sits on the tall stool at the bar. “The usual?”

“That joke is old as it is boring. Yes, asshole, I’ll have ‘the usual.’” 

Karkat is an absolute square and unfortunately quite the stickler when it comes to his job, so it should be of no surprise when all that Dave sets in front of him is a glass of ice cubes and mineral water. 

“Thanks,” Karkat grumbles. He had already given up on trying to pay Dave for the drink many many days ago, because Dave technically was supposed to charge him an astronomical amount for the mineral water but he continuously refused to. 

Anything to keep the drink of water himself visiting Dave’s bar during his shift break was fine by him. 

Karkat sips the drink and peers back over to the casino floor. A silent longing sigh sits on and drops Dave’s shoulders as he looks away. 

He will never forget the day he fell in love with that man. 

-

Karkat Vantas had begun to come by the Salt Row sporadically in his first few weeks and then after that pretty much consistently. Dave teased him for sitting at the bar and only drinking water but would supply him nonetheless. He hoped he at least wasn’t irritating, seeing as he did generally appreciate the visits of the quiet, rather focused and attractive security employee. 

Anyone with eyes should find that he is attractive. Or maybe he really was just Dave’s type: shorter, but thick and sturdy and filled out. He was everything a member of casino security detail should be. The one downside was that he was more consistent at wearing that perma-pissed off expression most of the security guys have on at work. In Vantas’s case, he pretty much always looked like that. 

Anytime he smiled was a small victory for Dave. Maybe the guy just took his job too seriously, he was a tough nut to crack in general. Dave couldn’t find himself getting much further than small talk with him, although maybe that was his fault. It wasn’t easy to disclose the details of his other job which took up a significant amount of his time when he wasn’t working the Salt Row. 

“Alright, I have to ask. Why are you always coming over here for your breaks?” Dave asks him one day. He’d started to appreciate whatever gods out there assigned his shifts to be the same time as this piece of eye candy. 

“Why the fuck do I want to walk all the way to the staff breakroom when I could just sit here and drink water, which is exactly what I would be doing there.”

“Makes sense,” Dave responds, nodding mindlessly. 

“... This bar also plays music I don’t totally hate. I can’t hear whatever electronic shit they play on the floor.” 

“Ah, so it’s not to bask in my company for a few minutes, is it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Out on the casino floor, there’s a scuffle that turns his attention immediately away from the bar. 

Two other security guards are already descending on who started the issue; a drunk and entitled man who appears to have groped one of the casino waitresses. Tempted by their mandatory uniforms of tight leotards and corsets and bare asscheeks covered only by fishnet tights, he appears to have slapped her ass. 

It’s times like these when Las Vegas makes Dave realize how absolutely terrible humans are. He hates this man. He hates this town. He hates everything it represents, the facade it barely covers, the way people use it to drown out the misery of their sad insignificant existence.

Karkat drops his glass on the bar without a thought and barrels out of the bar onto the casino floor, where the belligerent man appears to be fighting with security.

Dave watches in wonder as Karkat marches right over and socks him in the face right then and there. Then man goes down immediately, the security that had been trying to restrain his arms letting him fall to the floor. 

Dave’s jaw drops. 

Yeah, Dave may hate Las Vegas, but oh, does he _love_ Karkat Vantas. 

Karkat meanders back to the bar to finish off the rest of his break.

Dave excuses himself to have a meltdown in the back storage room. 

-

“See anything today? Kick out any suspicious individuals?” 

“No. I swear more and more every day this post becomes a customer service job. ‘Which way is the Wynn’, or ‘How do we get to the Glass’? Do I look like a fucking map?” 

“I’m sure it’s your uh, kind demeanor and lovely smiling face,” Dave teases.

Karkat snorts. “I can’t blame the suckers, anyways. You don’t even want to know what kind of cash the guys up top make.” 

“Oh, I think I can imagine,” Dave sighs as he glances out at the floor. Then he looks back at Karkat. What is he supposed to even say to him?

“So uh… did you have a good day off?” 

Dave for the most part probably wouldn’t care to ask that of most men in this city so maybe it is a legitimate question, and that was the other thing that made Karkat Dave’s type. He wasn’t sleazy. In fact, he seemed to be a stand up guy, unlike most of the men Dave had met here, embittering him. He hoped Karkat thought something of the same about him, but there was a rather sick irony to that notion.

Karkat shrugs in answer. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna have all that much of interest to tell you.”

Dave tilts his head to the side and then shakes it. “Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” What he would give to keep Vantas here all day, unloading any and all of his thoughts about his life and casinos and Vegas and travel and visitors that he had. And, well, maybe his thoughts about Dave, too. 

“What about you? How did you entertain yourself on your last twenty-four hours of freedom?” 

“Same old, same old. Cocaine, strippers, lots of one dollar bills,” Dave grins and winks at him.

“You know you’re the only person I believe when they say it,” Karkat states, making Dave laugh. 

“Do you really now?”

“Of course not, you’re full of shit like everyone else here.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Dave can’t help but smile at him, still rather amused. 

Those twenty minutes of Karkat’s breaks always go by too quickly, but it’s alright. 

Dave only has about forty minutes until he has to leave for his second job, where he works as a male entertainer.

In other words, most nights of the week Dave enjoys taking his clothes off and dancing on a pole for whoever wants him under the name ‘Red’. 

-

It started off with a dare, as most good stories should. 

Dave and Roxy had been drunk at a house party, ‘what are the odds’-ing each other in an escalating series of requests. Dave already had to take a shot of stale sprinkles that ended up being worse than the taste of bottom-shelf vodka. 

“Oh my god, I got one,” Roxy yells suddenly. “What are the odds…. That…..” She pauses a few moments for suspense while Dave looks at her expectantly. “You go to a pole dance class with me.”

Dave’s laugh is a bark in response. “Pole dance class? Alright, sure. Out of ten.”

“Really? Only out of ten?”

Dave flushes a little. “U-uh, yeah?” Should that number have been higher?

Roxy shrugs, only looking excited at the prospect of going with him. 

“Alright, out of ten. 3… 2… 1….” Roxy counts down. 

Immediately following the 1, Dave and Roxy both yell a number between 1 and 10. 

If Dave picks the same number as Roxy, he loses and has to go to the class with her. 

“Four!” They both say at the same time. 

The silence holds for one long second that is broken by Dave’s singular verbal “Fuck.”

Roxy yelps excitedly and fist pumps. “Oh fuck yeah, you’re coming with me! You are so not getting out of this one, I will never let you live it down.”

Dave groans, but little did he know it would be an experience that would change his life forever. 

At the age of twenty-three, Dave was still figuring out a lot of things about himself. 

Like the idea that he might like guys too, primarily. Dave felt like a lot of his life experience thus far had been trial by fire. He skipped over college, instead electing to work as a bartender until he maybe wanted to do something else out there. It was hard for a little while, getting financially stable in between his moments of panic about his sexuality. 

Bartending was a good job. He actively enjoyed it, and when he thought about why he found himself realizing that it was a form of entertainment, of getting attention. Dave had always been a rather attention hungry soul. He liked it when roaming eyes would glance over his arms as he shook a mixer bottle over his shoulder. 

So he goes to the pole lesson with a giggling and amused Roxy, not expecting it to be as if he found his calling. 

The instructor expresses surprise and excitement at Dave’s appearance. Yeah, maybe Dave looked like he belonged in a frat somewhere more than he belonged here. The instructor quickly followed up that they liked having guys there, it was just rare. Sure, whatever. He’s just here for the bet.

But when he finally gets one of the poses right where he’s only holding on to the pole by his legs, a move that put him dangerously close to slamming his balls multiple times, he notices everyone in the room is watching him, the one guy in this class. 

Dave decides that he _really_ likes that feeling.

It didn’t completely come to him that he liked being watched until a year later, after that one pole lesson turned into an addiction and he started attending without Roxy. He started to get really good at pole, developing muscle everywhere that would hold him in complex poses. 

That was when the owner of the studio started asking if he was interested in some more _practical_ applications of his growing skill base.

Dave said yes. 

A few years later, and he’s employed as a male entertainer at one of the few co-ed strip clubs in Las Vegas, the Cherry Bomb, catering to all kinds of sexual appetites. Sometimes Dave danced for women, sometimes for men. He didn’t care.

He just liked being watched. Sure, it was kind of shameless. There were a lot of moral and emotional hoops he had to jump through at first. It wasn’t like he was hurting for cash, but… 

Over time he began to enjoy it. He liked the idea of turning on the people watching him, that he was the one doing that to them. It made him feel good, even powerful. 

It was, however, quite the secret. Not many knew of this second job, and Dave made a point to make it that way. So much so that he even wore a red mask during his routines. Dave had to argue for that, saying that it was part of the mystique of his stripper persona, which was complete bullshit but he stuck with the claim anyways. He still made the same tips as others, even more sometimes because of his legitimate pole dance training. Under the button up shirts he wore to his bartending gigs, he felt he had a pretty nice pack of abs that he sure had worked for over the years of pole training. 

Everyone _loved_ those. 

It was this job that made Dave realize he really did have an untamed side to him that he didn’t entirely understand. 

In other words, he was kind of a freak. 

Then one day his boss asked him if he was interested in catering to a bit of a niche crowd. 

Dave didn’t completely understand what he was getting into until he was trying on male sized lace panties with matching stockings and garter belts with the help of two of the female dancers on staff. 

When Dave saw himself, he couldn’t explain the feeling it gave him, to see him look like _that_. He just knew he liked it. 

He knew he wanted other people to like it, too. 

This lead him to experiment with his pole dancing outfits. Instead of the black, tight underwear with packed bulges the male strippers on staff tended to wear, he started wearing lingerie and stockings and high heels and garter belts. 

Dave started to realize he _loved_ wearing all of that. He loved the way it would both confuse and titillate patrons who had never seen a man in lingerie before. His outfits still kept his dick tucked away, but for the right price and group he was more than happy to wear sheer or lace outfits, and sometimes even nothing. 

It was a fun job. 

It was also very good at keeping Dave single, but honestly? That was Dave’s fault. 

All it took was one person expressing horror at Dave’s job for him to stop telling people, scared that they would find him _too_ freaky, or weird, or any number of things one could say about a mid-twenties man who kind of got off on dancing in women’s underwear for strangers.

There were a myriad of reasons, in actuality. 

But one day the biggest reason became the fat stack of mancakes that liked to sit at his bar. 

Not like he’d ever want to become anything more to Dave, though.

-

Dave squats in his boots, hands sliding down his quads to his knees, and bounces his ass. A woman sitting around the platform is stuffing one dollar bills into his panties, manicured fingers feeling over the lace of his outfit. He grins and turns around to face her, kneeling so that her face is at the level of his crotch, and wraps his hand around the back of her head to thrust his hips quickly in her face. 

She giggles and flushes red, visible enough under the low lighting. Ah, jackpot. He doesn’t usually get so physical with people, instead relying on the displays of his legitimate pole skill for the extra cash. But hey, Dave thought she seemed nice. She sure was into the outfit, at least. Dave was a fan of those reactions. 

When he’s finally had enough he makes his way out of the Cherry Bomb’s main showroom to the back, where he changes out of the lace outfit and into some everyday clothes, a simple long sleeve shirt and some jean joggers. Leaving this place still dressed like that would be asking for trouble, sadly. When he took the mask off he could walk to his car and be left alone. 

It’s peak Vegas nighttime around two am when Dave slips out the back in the couple of alleyways he takes to get to his car. 

He’s about to turn a corner onto the street when he hears voices and pauses. 

“It’s the Maxina,,” the man growls as Dave comes into hearing range. “The owner has had this shit coming for years. Next week, we hit him where it hurts. You down?”

“ _The Maxina_? Are you fucking crazy?” 

“We’ve been planning this for six months.”

“I don’t care, you don’t just put a target on the newest casino on the strip and expect it to be a cakewalk.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Cops already been paid off, only thing in the way is Slick’s security detail.”

The other individual in the conversation goes quiet for a second, and Dave feels nauseous. 

“That easy, huh?”

“That easy.”

“When’s the hit?”

“Next weekend. There’s a poker tournament, but it’s a couple steps below Nationals so it’s not being televised.” 

This is not a conversation Dave had ever wanted to be a part of in his life. He needs to get out of here. 

He steps back, hoping to fade back the other way out of the alley, except Lady Luck is not on his side tonight. 

His foot lands on an empty can and it crushes loudly under his shoe. 

The two men are undoubtedly looking over in his direction, and both only have to step back a few paces to see Dave there, guilty as could be.

The one guy who seemed to be doing most of the talking pulls out a gun. “How much did you hear?” He growls

Oh, fuck. These are real Vegas gangsters, christ. “Nothing! I just came out here!” 

The man points the gun at him and starts moving toward Dave, backing him into the wall. Dave knows the way things go in this town. He doesn’t think there are any quick enough moves he knows to get him out of a gunfight, especially now that the other guy has a small firearm aimed at him. 

“You’re lying, you’re little shit” The obvious gangster accuses. 

“I’m not, I swear!” Dave cries, hands up in surrender. 

“Yeah whatever,” the man growls with an accent, poking Dave in the stomach. “I think we should still give you a lesson on eavesdropping. Don’t you agree?” He asks his companion, who just nods and grins. 

The man holding Dave back laughs and then knees Dave in the gut before whipping the gun across his face. Dave groans in pain as the man steps away from him to take a swing at his cheek with the opposite fist. He dodges, but not quickly enough, as his much bigger companion swings and hits Dave right in the nose.

As Dave finally goes down, he wonders darkly if he should have ever taken those self-defense classes with Roxy, too. 

-

Dave crawls back to his car, face bloodied and bruised. In his rearview mirror he can see the beginnings of a lovely swollen eye. 

He can’t go to work like this. 

In his head, the few details of the coming hit on the Maxina echo in his head, which aches terribly. It feels like his lungs are about to cave in, he can’t breathe. Everything hurts. He calms himself after a few minutes, putting his face in his hands. 

He needs to do something about this. He needs to stop this from happening. He needs to tell someone…. Not the police, of course.

The answer is so obvious. He should tell Karkat. 

But he can’t tell Karkat. Not as Dave. He can’t tell Karkat something Red heard. If he gave Karkat the tip, Karkat would want to meet his contact. And the thing is, Dave is also that contact, and Dave doesn’t think he wants to know how Karkat would react if he actually thought ill of Dave’s… second job slash hobby slash sort of kink. 

But Red could find a way to tell Karkat. 

Not only could Red tell him, he would be able to figure out once and for all if the stoic enforcer actually swung his way at all. Great, he just found out a plan that would not only involve Karkat possibly getting hurt and Dave immediately jumped to wanting to find out if he was straight or not. 

He’ll think on it. Maybe he’s woozy from the barrage his body just took and is jumping to conclusions about what he should or shouldn’t do. 

With a sigh Dave pulls out his phone and starts writing a message to his boss that he won’t be able to come in for work at the casino. Once again, he finds himself hating the fuck out of Vegas. 

And maybe capitalism, also. 

-

Dave gets off of work, but he ends up needing to send a picture of his face to his boss for proof. 

It takes two days for the swelling to go down enough for Dave to at least be able to cover up whatever is left with makeup. Concealer works well enough to cover the worst of the bruises, at least enough so that no one looking closely would be able to see in the dim lighting of the bar. He’s picked up a lot of odd tips working the club, and that is definitely one of them. 

Those couple of days pass by slowly and bitterly. Dave hides away, electing to spend the time playing video games when he isn’t icing his face. 

Should he have called the police? Definitely not. If he had, would they have actually accepted the lie that he was visiting the Cherry Bomb as a visitor and not that he was actually someone who worked there? 

Dave didn’t want to find out. 

But he still has to go do something. Something big was coming, and he might be the only person that can stop it.

Dave checks into his shift at the Salt Row and starts about helping the bartender before him switch off. The day flies by. Dave still has to check now and then to make sure the concealer is staying in place as he works away, taking orders and shooting the shit with people that pass through. 

He’s busy washing glasses in the corner during a slow moment, he doesn’t notice him slide up to the bar until he’s turned around and already sitting there.

“Hello, Dave,” Karkat greets him.

Dave’s head flies around to look at him, caught off guard. “Oh. Hey,” he responds as he shuts off the sink when he manages to close his dropped jaw. 

“Long time no see,” Karkat comments as Dave sets about getting him water, as he always does. 

“Right,” Dave responds blankly, averting his gaze.

“Are you feeling alright?” Karkat asks and god, getting the shit kicked out of him the other night may have hurt, but the sweet sound of what Dave desperately wants but can’t have hurts even more. Dave knows he’s just feeling a little off since that night, he can’t let this get to him. It’s just that Karkat sounds genuinely… concerned. Like everything he’s said thus far has been hesitant and cautious. Dave’s probably reading too much into it. Most of his friends probably didn’t even know anything was amiss, probably just assumed he was busy at work because he didn’t say anything. Only his fellow employees at the Maxina would know anything had happened. 

“What, did you miss me?” He forces the customer service grin on his face, the one that he usually doesn’t have to fake around Karkat. 

Karkat shrugs. “I just heard you were out sick.”

That sure is a way of putting it. Dave looks away as he pours the glass bottle of mineral water over ice, the way he always has, just not looking at the man who is trained to spot liars while he does. “Oh. Yeah. I was kind of… under the weather.” 

“Are you feeling better?” 

God, Dave can’t deal with this right now. He hates how concerned he sounds. He wants to understand if Karkat likes him, or if he’s just the guy who gives him free water. Karkat didn’t protect him from getting the shit kicked out of him the other night.

Dave knows that what he’s thinking is unfair, but he’s irrationally mad for some reason.

“I’m fucking fine, what’s it to you?” Dave snaps and immediately regrets it. 

Karkat is silent for a long second. “Right, I apologize. I know I should dive into your business like it’s my job. No one wants that.” 

“It’s not that,” Dave huffs. “I just… sorry. It was a rough couple of days.” 

“Well uh. I… I’m glad to see you back on your feet, then.” 

“Yeah,” Dave sighs, looking away. “I… You uh… You go enjoy the water, okay? I got some stuff to do in the back real quick.” He finally meets Karkat’s gaze. 

He’s frowning at Dave. Not scowling, or even impassive, but frowning. Like he’s upset, or disappointed. 

Dave puts his hands in his pockets and pivots to turn around so he can push through the saloon-style swinging doors into the backroom, but he pauses just before he’s about to turn.

“Hey, Karkat?” 

“.... What?” 

“I uh… thanks for checking in.”

“Yeah. Of course,” he says, oddly quiet, but still frowning. 

Dave goes to the back storage room, but he has no intention of actually working. Instead, he pulls out his phone and stares at the fake number he uses for his second job

Then pulls Karkat’s card out along with it, the one with his info that he had saved ages ago that had Karkat’s loss prevention title on it. 

Karkat gave him that card a month or so into his job. _If you ever need it_ , he’d said, and Dave hadn’t known what to make of it at the time. 

Standing back there in the dark, Dave quickly composes a text message. 

i heard you’re the guy people go to when theres a problem with the max  
well i have some info you might be interested in hearing

go to the cherry bomb this thursday night at midnight and ask for red

Karkat’s response is almost immediate. It takes all of Dave’s self control not to peek out and creep on Karkat as he gets the mysterious message.

WHAT? WHO IS THIS? THE CHERRY BOMB?

Dave doesn’t respond, praying that Karkat will figure it out.

IS THAT THE STRIP CLUB? YOU WANT ME TO GO TO A STRIP CLUB FOR A TIP?

if you care about your job at all, id do it  
what is it, a few people in underwear too much for you to handle

THIS BETTER NOT BE A WASTE OF MY TIME.

dont worry  
it wont be

-

Karkat sighs at the message on his phone as he steps through the doors of the strip club, the darkness swallowing him in, indubitably among with all the pornographic activities that go down there. 

`ask for red`, he reads the message again, which certainly came from a burner number. 

So he’s here, at midnight, asking for this ‘Red’. Now that he’s passed the ID check at the door, it seems he must check into this lobby area. A woman at the counter notices him. Karkat steels himself and walks over to her, forgoing the entrance in the corner to the main room of the club. 

“I’m here for Red,” he growls, eager to keep interactions with any extraneous individuals to a minimum. 

She looks a little confused. “I don’t think he was booked with… Oh,” she finishes as she looks down at what appears to be a scheduling book before her. 

Karkat goes still for a second. _He…?_

He’d thought… Well, yeah, he thought Red was a woman. He assumed so. 

It appears that this contact is… a man. 

“Huh. Yeah. Right this way.” 

She leads Karkat through the main room, red, pink, purple, blue lights shining from overhead and illuminating the dancers. 

Karkat knew that this was a co-ed establishment, one of the few of its kind. It is… something else. He watches a woman at the corner of one of the high pole platforms fondle the absurdly large, pendulum-like breasts of a stripper. In another corner a man in a tight thong is running fingers down the suit jacket of a man during what must be a lap dance of some sort. 

To each their own, then. 

But he’s not there for that. Karkat is just a passive observer here, though he cannot deny a curiosity. Anyone would feel the same about such a place, right? 

“Are you familiar with the rules?” The woman asks as he’s lead into a hallway at the opposite end of the larger room. 

“Not exactly,” Karkat says, not completely paying attention as he observes the hall. It’s lit up completely by red lights. The rules? 

“Well first of all, no touching the dancers. They can touch you, but you can’t touch them, unless they tell you. If you touch them without their say-so, we’re gonna have a problem. You got it?” 

“.... Alright,” Karkat murmurs, a little confused. He thought he was just here for a meeting. The fuck is going on?

He’s led to a back room, the door opened for him. Only part of the room is dimly illuminated over a chair. The rest is too dark to see. 

The woman motions for him to sit in the chair. Karkat sighs and looks at her, who looks questioningly back at him. Huffing, he turns towards the chair and goes to sit in it, crossing his arms.

“Enjoy the show,” she says, and the door is closed behind her, leaving him completely alone.

Or so he thinks. 

As the door closes, the rest of the lights turn on, and a figure can be seen standing before him with one hand on a strip pole, the other on resting on a leather-covered hip. 

_Red._

Or at least, Karkat assumes this is Red. Maybe he should stop assuming so much, considering before he stepped into this building he thought Red was a woman. 

This is very clearly a man. 

Karkat swallows subconsciously as he takes in the sight before him. 

Red is wearing black flared pants with red boots peeking out, a belt with an absurdly large buckle, a fringed leather vest, and a cowboy hat on top. 

He lifts his head slowly to meet Karkat’s studying gaze, and he can see that Red is also wearing a red mask that covers half of his face. 

It doesn’t really fit the whole cowboy theme, but somehow it works for him. It appears to match his red boots, anyways. 

Vaguely Old Western sounding music mixed with house beats start playing out of the speakers, not too loud but just enough to send a groove through the listener. 

Red starts a walk around the pole, one boot carefully toeing in front of the other, head still trained on Karkat. 

Okay, focus. 

“You must be Red,” Karkat says, now scowling and readjusting his crossed arms. “It’s alright, you can drop the act. I’m just here for my info.”

“Sorry handsome,” Red drawls in a absurdly thick but still very real Texan accent. He takes a hold of the pole and hoists himself up, crossing his legs around the pole as if he’s casually sitting. His upper arm muscles are the only thing that give away the physical exertion of the action. “I’m on the clock! Gotta play by the rules, you know how it is, don’t you.” 

Karkat blinks up at him in confusion. “I… yes, but I… you could spare me the theatrics. I really am just here to ask for what you know.”

Red is quiet and drops from the pole sit as the music moves into something languid but intentional and sexy. He starts a routine, and from the way he’s undoing the latch of his vest, he’s not going to stop with just dancing. 

-

Internally, Dave is freaking out. 

What if he’s not actually into it? What if Karkat really, really doesn’t like guys? Is it better to know that?

Is it better to know and have his crush on a stupidly sexy straight man crushed? 

Was this whole thing a mistake? Should he have bothered giving Karkat this info? What’s he even going to do with it? 

It’s too late now, Dave is in this shit. At least he will know for sure by the end, about all of it. 

He turns to face the pole, honestly needing to look away from Karkat to re-accumulate his courage, which appears to have fled within the last minute. He shakes the vest off his shoulders, revealing his back and baring his chest. He lets it fall off and throws it to the side, off the pole platform and away from Vantas. 

“Alright what’s the deal, why can’t you just tell me what’s up.” Karkat says, and as Dave takes ahold of the pole again for another mid-air split hold he strains to hear for it in his voice, the telltale stress in his voice signaling typical male arousal. Dave doesn’t hear anything. 

Well, at least he’s being respectful. 

“So impatient,” Red tsks. “You know hon, places like these got eyes _everywhere_. Just give me a moment to do my thing, maybe enjoy the free show like a good boy.” He tips his hat and winks toward Vantas for good measure, though he probably can’t see the wink.

Now he can start getting to the good stuff.

-

Karkat tenses.

 _I think I have made a huge mistake._

He remembers now the little talk they had given him leading back to the room, that he can’t touch the dancers but they can touch him, and he better be damn careful not to touch them. 

Karkat hadn’t been worried about that. He’d been expecting a quick transaction of information, not the actual private show it seemed he was about to get, or, well, was getting. 

Objectively, Red was a talented dancer. Strong. Karkat is impressed when he lifts himself up into a split hold, crotch hovering over the bar. It’s a unique type of athleticism that Karkat doesn’t possess. 

The dim lighting does a good job to accentuate features of Red’s body that he seems to want better noticed. 

Karkat observes the defined curve of his ass slide down the pole, achingly slow.

He clears his throat. 

“Are you at least going to give me your real name? I can’t exactly be chasing down a tip just because a ‘Red’ told me so, you get that, right?” He’s not exactly sure if calling him a stripper would be a derogatory term in this scenario, and he isn’t about to test it. 

“Unfortunately sweetheart, this is all you get. Is that…. Going to be a problem?” Red lets his voice fall a level. Karkat isn’t an idiot. He’s spent enough time in Las Vegas around sultry smooth talking men and women to know what that voice is. 

It sounds like Red is coming on to him. Which is ridiculous. This whole gig is an act, right? Why doesn’t Red just quit it? He doesn’t need to keep doing this.

“Please tell me this isn’t some huge waste of time,” Karkat mutters under his breath. 

With that Red faces him and starts to undo his belt that keeps his pants at a high level around his waist. He stares down and Karkat, and Karkat can’t help but meet his gaze back. 

He yanks out the belt and it makes a whipping sound. That too meets the same fate at the vest, tossed to the back. 

In sync with the music, both his hands reach down his body, over his stomach, to the button and zipper of the pants. He pops it open with flourish, slowly tugging down the zipper, to reveal not the rest of the smooth, oiled skin, but red lace. The pants come off easily over his hips, he moves with the action, until they drop down all in a pile at the floor that Red easily steps out of. 

Oh god. 

That’s a lot of…. Red. 

Underneath the cowboy-reminiscent pants, Red was wearing red lace underwear that left very little to the imagination with a matching garter and stocking set. The stockings plunge into knee high red boots, which Karkat now can see are high stiletto style. 

The garter sits elegantly wrapped around his hips over the v-line of his abs, letting some of that skin peek out between it and the underwear.

The cowboy hat stays on, and it shouldn’t look so good with the outfit but it all…. Fits. Like Red wasn’t supposed to be any other way. 

-

Dave can feel those eyes on him, but he doesn’t know what to make of them. It’s too dark for him to see if they are dilated with that uncontrollable sympathetic activity. 

If this man wasn’t already deep in the security gig, he really missed an opportunity with poker.

The pants are thrown aside and Dave lifts himself up on to the pole again, this time undulating his hips with the music, letting the effort of holding himself against the pole highlight his muscles as they work. 

Dave knows that he looks good up there. He’s seen enough people go slack-jawed, wide eyed and hungry over this very move to know it. Yeah, maybe he’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but he looks _good_ up there. 

And god dammit, he wants Karkat to think he looks good too. 

He sighs and turns his back to the pole, dropping his ass down the side and opening his legs wide to give Karkat both a view of his ass and crotch. 

People really do love the bulge in those panties. He knows that damn well by now.

Dave stands up out of the move and starts to talk as he seamlessly slips between moves, throwing out every one in the book that he knows drive people crazy. 

Red speaks again, drawling out his words with the accent. “I tend to get hired for a particular… clientele, here. Most people are respectful. Some people… aren’t.” 

He steps away from the pole, down from the one step off the pole platform. His heels hit the ground with a satisfying clack as he walks in that same way, toe to heel, right over to Karkat. 

Karkat sits up in his chair but keeps his arms crossed. His face remains in a scowl, but now it’s focused and observing. 

“So forgive me, sir, I can’t exactly tell yet if you’re the type that needs to sit on his hands.”

Karkat clears his throat again but doesn’t uncross his arms, only sitting up a little higher in the seat. “I’m just here for your info,” he repeats. 

Dave puts a finger over his own lips and shh’s, kicking Karkat’s legs open with his foot, the pointed heel poking him in the pant leg. 

Then he drops all the way between those spread legs and sits back on those high heels. 

He rests his hands gently on Karkat’s knees and slides them up over his thighs up towards his hips. 

“They got ears everywhere here too, doll.”

 _Jesus fuck_ , Dave thinks as his hands pass over his quads. _Are these things made of steel?_

-

Karkat realizes he is on this ride and not getting off anytime soon. This dancer or stripper or whatever is going to whisper this in his ear if they have to, and it’s that much of a federal fucking issue to do it any other way, yeah, fine. 

He’s seen some weird shit in Vegas. This can’t be the weirdest info handoff he’s been a part of. 

-

Red turns around and faces away from Karkat, legs moving to straddle his lap, dropping down with his ass scooting towards Vantas’s crotch. 

“They said we can touch you but but you can’t touch us, right?” Red asks.

Karkat makes a small noise and then, “Yes.”

Dave can barely look back at him, he can’t read if Karkat is into it at all. He’s not asking Dave not to do this, not asking him to _stop_. Is it kind of sick that he’s desperately hoping this turns Karkat on? 

“That’s not going to be a problem for you is it, big boy?” His ass scoots along his pants, slowly but surely sliding up to make contact with his crotch. 

Karkat still has his arms crossed tightly but leans back in his chair, as if that’s gonna stop it from happening. 

When he gets there Dave chickens out, brushing over his abdomen with his ass and then pulling away. Then he turns back to Karkat and straddles his legs again so that he’s chest to chest with Karkat. His forearms fall down to rest on Karkat’s shoulders, hands dangling off the back. 

They’re never been this close before. It’s so obscenely indulgent for Dave to do this. 

Karkat looks unfazed. 

Dave scoots his hips a little bit forward and Karkat uncrosses his arms, letting them fall to his sides. His expression remains unchanged as he gazes back at Dave.

He’s a tough nut to crack, surely in more than one way. Dave doesn’t know what to do about this. He loves Karkat watching him… but he doesn’t love it if Karkat doesn’t. Might as well get this over with. 

So he opens his mouth to start talking, but Vantas speaks and interrupts him.

“Don’t I know you?” His expression is examining as he looks at Dave. 

Dave closes his mouth and leans back, fear shuddering through him. 

“.... Do you?” 

“I….” Karkat opens his mouth, closes it. Speaks again. “Sorry. You just…. You just remind me of someone,” Vantas says, and now there’s clear bewilderment in his face. 

Is he…. Is he talking about Dave?

“Is that…. a good thing?” Red murmurs, and he almost slips and loses the accent. 

“It… might be….” Karkat murmurs, staring at his face, now looking almost contemplative. 

Red, Dave, feels like he’s being studied. 

It’s so weird and he can’t describe this feeling, but he feels… seen. Like Red reminding Karkat of Dave is a good thing. 

Karkat blinks and the moment is gone. “I just… Tell me what happened.” 

Right.

“I was mindin’ my own business the other night, leaving the club. I heard some guys talking. They said this…” Dave leans forward to speak in his ear, other hand running through Karkat’s hair and down to take a hold of his neck, and gives him a succinct version of the discussion he heard that night. “And then…” He continues, before realizing he didn’t want to add those very unsexy details to this. 

“And then what?” Karkat asks when Dave doesn’t speak. He swallows thickly, not wanting to answer this part. 

But he has to. 

“They heard me, and I got the hell outta dodge before they could see me. That’s it.”

“You’re lying,” Karkat says, matter of fact. 

Red exhales. 

“What happened, Red.”

Red chuckles lowly, darkly. “You really wanna know, sweetheart? They gave me a good ol’ fashioned mafia beatdown, that’s what happened. Wanted to make it real clear to me that I shouldn’t go breathin’ a word of their business to any… interested parties.”

Karkat tenses below him, tightening his hands into fists. “ _They hurt you?_ ” He growls. He sounds… genuinely pissed. 

“I can handle myself but I appreciate the thought,” Red says, trying not to sound too bitter. 

But then there’s a hand sliding up to cup his face, and Red freezes.

“I’m… I’m so sorry they did that to you,” Karkat says, thumb brushing along his chin. “I promise you, I won’t let them get away with this.” His hand falls away, leaving Red completely still. “I… sorry. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have done that.”

Dave doesn’t know how his entire body doesn’t erupt in goosebumps. He can still feel the ghost of Vantas’s hand on his chin. “It’s fine,” he murmurs.

Both of them are quiet for a long moment following that. “I see why you didn’t call the police,” Karkat finally says.

“Yeah, well, the police don’t do shit around here. Especially for someone like me, you know,” Red sighs. 

Karkat nods, but as if it’s in understanding. “Thank you for telling me this.” 

“I… Yeah. I was told you were a good one.” 

“Who… Who told you that?”

Red just smiles at him and leans forward into whisper directly in Karkat’s ear again. “Now that’ll my secret,” he breathes, his hands sliding back through Vantas’s hair. His hair is coarse but feels amazing under his fingers. 

Dave then turns his head and kisses Vantas’s cheek, so indulgently it hurts. God, he’s wanted to do that for so long now. 

Vantas jumps. Dave can see his eyes are wide with surprise as he pulls back. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Mr. Vantas.” 

He slips out of the room in a flash. The new wounds he has to lick that aren’t exactly physical this time. 

-

Karkat’s legs are cramping. If anyone looks at him too closely, they might notice he's walking just a bit funny. He probably shouldn't have been flexing his quads for so long, determined to leave the blood in his extremities and out of an erection.

It appears he has finally lost that battle.


	2. do you need me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now extended to 3 chapters. i hope you guys like this part!!

Dave hides away in the back changing room. 

That whole routine… Karkat hadn’t been into it at all. 

_Hey, at least you know now_ , he tries to tell himself. It doesn’t make him feel any better. He feels gross, like he just assaulted Karkat. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, what was he thinking? There were many other ways he could have gone about either giving him the info or finding out he wasn’t into Dave, or men in general. Like, maybe asking him. 

Who’s he kidding, Dave could never work up the courage to do it as regular old everyday Vegas bartender Dave Strider. 

But Red, Red who could make men and women fall to their knees drooling over him? Red could. 

Dave changes out of Red’s outfit and into regular clothes, but he takes a moment to appreciate the way the garter straps accentuate the curve of his ass. At least his ego is intact. If Karkat wasn’t into him it was only because he wasn’t into guys. And probably especially not guys in lacey underwear. 

Anyways, as long as Karkat doesn’t put two and two together, he should be fine, right? Dave doesn’t even want to consider what would happen if he did. He feels like a disgusting person all over again. 

Deny, deny, deny if anything. Rule number one, don’t get caught, whatever. 

At least now he can start the process of getting over him. No, he remembers the real rule number one: don’t fall for straight guys. 

He already broke that one. 

-

Dave continues to contemplate what happened well into the next day when he shows up for his shift at the Maxina. 

What would have happened if Karkat had been into it? Would Dave have even approached him, come clean about the whole thing? A nausea persists in his stomach that he can’t make go away no matter what. The heartbreak is made only slightly better by telling himself that Karkat just isn’t into guys and he should leave it alone. 

But when he sees Karkat entering the Salt Row the next day, his heart still leaps. 

The security enforcer looks even more brooding than usual, folding his hands over the bar and appearing lost in thought. 

Dave puts the glass down in front of him and wipes his hands. 

“Thanks,” Karkat grumbles. 

“No problem,” Dave says, forgoing the usual ‘Anything for Vegas’s best security guard’ or something of the like he might have said on any other day. Time to start cutting back on all the maybe maybe-not flirting he does with him. Except, because he apparently just can’t help himself, he asks, “How was your night?”

Karkat chokes on the drink. He sets the glass down on the bar with a clink and wipes at his mouth. Dave watches his every action carefully. “You know, it’s funny you ask that.”

Dave freezes. “... Oh? What-- Why’s that?”

Karkat pauses and considers, staring off into space for a second, and then shakes his head. “I don’t think I could explain even if I wanted to.”

What the hell is Dave supposed to do with that?! 

“Well come on now dude, you got me curious!” He puts his hands on the counter and leans forward toward Karkat. 

Karkat looks at him for a long moment before he shakes his head. “I was just going to say that reminds me. You wouldn’t happen to be taking off any time next week, right? Next weekend. I guess… during that upcoming poker tournament.” 

Dave wants to yell and shake him, but he can’t. Karkat wants to know if he’ll be off during the poker tournament, when those mobsters were planning to somehow rob the casino? Dave definitely hadn’t been planning on it. 

“Nope, pretty sure I’m booked the whole way through. Those things tend to be all hands on deck, you know? Plus I just had a few unplanned days off uh, sparing you from the coronavirus I had.” He remembers the lie that he’d been sick the other day and is sure to stick with it. 

“Oh, right,” Karkat says, and Dave swears that he actually looks upset. “Well, maybe you should try to get some time off.” 

“Why’s that? You tired of seeing this mug day in and day out? Speak very carefully, this is the guy that gives you free Voss every day.” 

“What? No-- I’m not trying to say that. I just… I just have this feeling that something bad is going to go down that weekend, and that maybe you should stay home.” 

Dave mindlessly started biting his lip as Karkat spoke to him. He releases it to respond, leaning back from the bar. “No can do, bro. Not a chance in hell I’d miss out on the action, anyways,” he says. 

Somehow Karkat’s request that he stay home makes him feel… good? Like Karkat is trying to watch out for him or something. 

The idea that Karkat cares about Dave enough to warn him is immediately too much to handle, he flushes and is once again thankful for the low lighting of the bar. He really does have it bad. 

In any case, his response just seems to piss off Karkat. “Dave, seriously.” 

The way he says his name, _fuck_. Dave covers up the shiver that runs down his spine by moving to start reracking glasses beside the sink. 

“Listen, we all know I’d love to stick it to the man and not show up to work, but that doesn’t pay the bills.” _You wanna know what_ does _pay the bills?_

Karkat huffs. “Alright, fine.” 

He drops the issue, and even though Dave still feels awful for subjecting him to Red the other night, he thinks that maybe Karkat could care about him as a friend. 

That’s okay with him, he thinks.

-

The next week passes by in a flash, and before Dave knows it, it’s one of the busiest weekends the Maxina has seen since opening. The poker tournament is finally here. People are wandering through the casino in droves. Dave is working in double time, preparing drinks alongside one of his coworkers. 

If anything had come from the info Dave gave Karkat, he hasn’t heard a word of it. Hey, maybe they busted those guys and that was that. Or maybe Karkat tried to bring it to a higher up and it got shot down as ridiculous. Dave knows the casinos don’t fuck around with that kind of information, though. 

He’s so busy he doesn’t notice him approaching until he’s finally there, but then he doesn’t take a seat at the bar, which is packed anyways. He’s slipping _behind_ the bar. 

“Sir, you can’t be here,” Dave jokes, but then he sees the deadly serious expression on Karkat’s face. At his full height in those dark clothes, he looks downright intimidating. 

“Come with me,” he says, taking a hold of Dave’s arm and dragging him through the back swinging doors. 

“Wha--, okay then,” Dave says and lets him get dragged back into the storeroom. He can’t lie, Karkat’s strong grip and the way he’s dragging him around does kind of turn him on immediately, simple as pushing a button. 

Karkat glances around the room nervously as the doors swing shut behind him before he turns his gaze on Dave. 

“We have intel that something is about to go down today. When it does, I want you to hide, okay?”

Dave just stares at him. Holy shit, they did take it seriously. Karkat looks gravely serious about it, anyways. 

“Uh, okay,” he says blankly. 

Karkat puts both hands on Dave’s shoulders. “Dave, please, _promise me_ you’ll stay away from it.” 

Dave jumps, body flushing hot as Karkat touches him again. He wonders briefly, narcissistically, if Karkat can feel his pole-toned muscles through his shirt. 

“I promise,” he says, not breaking his eye contact with Karkat. 

Karkat sighs, relieved, and pulls away from Dave. He nods once, satisfied with the answer. “Okay. Good. I have to go, but please, be safe.” He steps back from him but looks torn. “You’re… You’re too important to have anything happen to you, okay?” 

Before Dave can respond he’s back out of the swinging doors, leaving Dave slack-jawed and warm all over. 

-

The mobsters are rooted out and before Dave knows it, the whole thing is over. Apparently the whole part of the strip they were on was blocked with police cars. He vaguely remembers something about the cops being paid off, and wonders how they dealt with that. It’s definitely a fair bit of excitement, but he honestly just wants to go home. 

Well, not really. He wants to go to work at the Cherry Bomb, where people can make him feel wanted, even if it’s not the person who he wanted to want him. 

Except those words keep echoing in his brain: _You’re too important to have anything happen to you._

Again he’s filled with the molten hot feeling that Karkat cares about him. It makes him want to giggle like an idiot, which is stupid because he already knows Karkat is straight. It’s just as a friend. 

And that’s _fine_. 

Dave just needs to get over himself, too. 

He realizes when he’s getting ready to go home that it’s February 8th. Great, he has to get through Valentine’s day this week, too. 

The excitement of the day ends and Dave is on his way out, wondering briefly if anyone would link his involvement. No number of Karkat Vantas’s could save him from the mob then.

Karkat stops him just as he’s about to leave out of the staff exit. He looks tired and flustered. 

“Dave,” he says in an exhale. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah dude, I’m fucking fine. Well, I mean, obviously some shit went down, but I didn’t see any of it. Sure looks like you got in on the action.”

Karkat looks relieved. Dave’s never seen him so expressive before. “Okay, good, good, that’s good. I… I need to go but I’ll tell you what happened soon, alright.”

Dave finger guns at him. “Holdin’ you to it,” he says with a wink. 

As he walks backwards to the staff exit, Karkat is smiling at him and Dave can’t take his eyes off of it.

When Dave finally exits to the desert chill, his heart is non stop fluttering and there’s a small grin he can’t get off his face. 

-

Two days later Karkat comes back for his break. Dave hasn’t heard from anyone in the mob world, so he assumes he’s in the clear. 

Dave sets the glass down in front of him and Karkat is avoiding his eyes. 

“So, you ever gonna tell me what all happened the other day?”

Karkat chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Yeah I guess I owe you an explanation, don’t I?”

Dave nods his chin expectantly and Karkat shifts in his seat, leaning towards Dave. “I got an... anonymous tip, last week, that someone was planning a hit on this casino.”

Dave chews on the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to react to that part about the anonymous tip. 

“I took up with some of the higher-ups, and it immediately reached the highest-up. So we planned for it.”

“You couldn’t call the cops?” Dave says, playing dumb. 

Karkat leans forward a little in his seat and shakes his head. “Are you fucking kidding me? This city belongs to whoever’s highest bidder that week. They were paid off.” 

“Damn,” Dave says. “That’s wild. I thought I saw them here though?”

“The whole thing was a losing battle and they knew it, they had to show.” 

“Shit man. Well uh, I at least know I’m safe as long as you’re around, huh?” He sees Karkat blink confusedly, slowing lifting his eyes, and Dave immediately backpedals. “I mean, thanks for watching out for me, dude. I appreciate it.” 

Karkat’s face turns hard and he looks back down at the counter. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” 

Looks like he’s not gonna say anything about it, the “You’re too important” line from the other day. Maybe Dave just read too much into it. 

“They wanted to promote me, after all that,” Karkat says suddenly, appearing lost in thought.

“No shit. Did you… did you take it?” 

Karkat shakes his head. 

“What the, why not?” 

Karkat rubs at his mouth with one hand, thinking, and then drops it. “I… don’t know,” he says. “I guess I wasn’t sure I’d still be able to force my presence on you for free hydration.”

Did Karkat…. Did Karkat just flirt with him? 

Dave blinks at him and leans back on his heels, not expecting that. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Karkat is already talking again. 

“I’m thinking about it, though.”

“Well uh, if it means anything,” Dave says. “I think you should stay.” 

He’s looking at Karkat and Karkat is looking right back at him. 

Dave thinks he’s going to say something else, but he just says, “Yeah, thanks. I guess I will.” 

Dave smiles, but a casino patron sits at the other end of the bar and calls him over for their order. 

As he makes the requested martini, he has the strangest feeling that Karkat is watching him as he shakes the drink over his shoulder. Selfishly, Dave holds on to the feeling. 

-

Karkat doesn’t come by the next day, but he’s there the day after. 

His presence is always embarrassingly the highest point of Dave’s day, except for today.

Today Karkat seems especially weighed down with something, looking at the counter before him with a consternated expression. 

“What’s up, man?” Dave’s ask. “You’re staring at my salt shaker like it banged your wife.” 

Karkat seems to realize his demeanor and sits up in the seat. “I’m just… thinking, is all. About this last weekend.” 

Wait, Karkat doesn’t have a wife, does he? 

“Oh, yeah. That sure was some crazy shit that went down, wasn’t it.”

The two of them are quiet for a moment. 

Dave looks up to see that Karkat is staring at him very intently, biting his lip. He has to look away because it’s so intense, and it shouldn’t be that difficult but somehow this time it is. 

“Hey, Dave?” Karkat asks, forcing Dave to look at him.

“Sup,” he says, because of all the times he actually needs actual words they disappear right now. 

Why is it that Red can slick talk Karkat all he wants but Dave falls apart after two words? Why can’t Dave be more like Red? 

It doesn’t matter, it’s not like Karkat liked Red. 

“Would you… maybe…” Karkat says, and Dave finds himself leaning in towards him across the counter, hanging on every word. 

“Yeah?” He says, kind of breathless. 

“Would you maybe….” Karkat repeats, staring at him. Then he exhales, leans back and scratches his head. “Would you get me a lemon slice.” 

“Oh.” Dave leans back and away from the counter. 

“For sure, man,” Dave says, picking it out of the little bucket of them on his side of the bar. “Just help yourself next time, you don’t have to ask.” He half smiles at him and it’s forced this time, like a lot of his smiles have been ever since the other night that Karkat met Red. 

Karkat isn’t looking at him as Dave reaches out and drops the lemon slice into the glass. 

“Right,” he says. “Sorry, it’s already nice enough that you do this as is.” 

“Hey now, anything for Vegas’s best security guard.” Dave winks at him. 

Karkat shifts and looks away uncomfortably, and when he walks away Dave feels a new, dull ache in his chest. 

-

He checks in to the Cherry Bomb, only to get the information that someone booked him for a private show at midnight. 

Dave doesn’t usually do private shows, but the price they paid was _hefty_. So he agreed to it, because fuck it. 

If someone _wanted him_ that badly on this random Wednesday, sure, whatever. Dave could oblige. Was it a regular? It only would make sense, but he couldn’t think of anyone it might be. 

So Dave isn’t expecting it even a little bit when _Karkat Vantas_ walks right back into that room, so meekly this time. It’s the shock of his life. The very same Karkat who sat at his bar earlier that day. 

The door closes behind Karkat but he pauses halfway across the room to the chair. The lights aren’t on yet.

“This is a bad idea,” he mutters, shaking his head and turning back around to leave. 

“Wait!” Dave cries out. “You came back.” The lights flicker on over Dave, lighting up his entrance behind Karkat’s back. 

Karkat pauses, as he’s reaching for the door. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did.” 

“.... Why? I thought… Well, forgive me, sir, there’s no other good way to put this, but I got the feeling that you were less than enthused about my performance the other day.” He lays the Texan on thick, hoping it covers the shake in his voice. 

Karkat shakes his head violently and turns around to face him. “You thought I didn’t like it? I more than liked it, okay? And that’s the fucking problem!”

Wait, what? 

Dave stands there in that outfit, no exterior cowboy getup this time, just the red lace and garters, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. 

“It’s just…” Karkat looks torn up, running a hand down his face. “You just… you just remind me so much of him, okay? It’s… it’s fucked up. I’m fucked up.” 

_You just remind me so much of him._

What?

“I... remind you of someone.”

Karkat shifts in his stance uncomfortably. “Yeah, and that’s why I should just go, this whole thing is pathetic and embarrassing and stupid.“

Dave doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so distraught. Swallowing, he hesitantly motions for Karkat to sit in the chair. “Hey now, none of that here. Why don’t you take a seat, darlin’, and let’s talk,” he offers. Karkat huffs in an indeterminate manner, presumably at the pet name, and drags himself over to slump in it like he’s surrendering. His face immediately falls to his hands. 

“Alright, handsome, let’s hear it. Tell me about this someone I apparently remind you so much of.” Red asks. 

Karkat rubs at his face tiredly. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He must be blushing like crazy. 

“‘Fraid I’m quiet serious about this. I need to know about my competition.”

Karkat laughs weakly, shaking his head as if in disbelief of Red’s words. “God, that right there, that’s the problem,” he says nonsensically.

“I am... not following.” 

“You really want to know?” He peeks up a little bit to look at Dave, who just nods. He can’t take his eyes off of Karkat as he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Alright, fine.” Karkat inhales and lets it out heavily. “There’s… this guy at work. And I can’t explain it, but you remind me so much of him. And the honest truth is that I… I like him, a lot.”

Oh.

Wow. 

“What’s… What’s his name?” Dave’s heart pounds freakishly in his chest in the few beats following the question. 

“Dave,” Karkat breathes, the name leaving his mouth in a revert exhale. “His name is Dave.” 

A warm sensation starts to grow under Dave’s skin. Just like that, he can’t stop the grin on his face. It’s pure elation. 

Karkat likes me, he thinks, finally allowing himself to think it, to maybe even know it. 

Dave has to clear his throat to continue, pulling the smile off his face before Karkat notices. “So you’ve got a thing for this _Dave_ fellow. And what?” 

Karkat snorts. “Well, Dave doesn’t fucking like or want me, of course. I mean come on, have you looked at me?” He pauses, glancing up to Red and away again. “Anyways, I’m just the idiot who thought the way he talked to me made me special but I’m just delusional. He’s like that with everyone.” Dave is left reeling. How could he have possibly ended up thinking that? Karkat continues speaking before Dave can process an answer about how fucking wrong he is. “But you… You make me feel like he actually does want me back. And… yeah. That’s it, honestly. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you any of this. Pathetic and desperate, right?”

Dave somehow manages to close his dropped jaw. “I don’t think so.” That’s what this whole job is. Red is the fantasy. If he’s getting this right, Red rightfully reminds Karkat of Dave. He wants the fantasy, because he thinks it to be _fantasy_ , of Dave wanting him. 

Suddenly Dave’s entire chest aches. He’s hurting, upset for Karkat, for thinking Dave couldn’t wouldn’t want him back. He needs to fix this. 

Dave crosses the room determinedly towards Karkat, throwing his legs over his lap. 

Karkat’s attention is on him with a jolt. 

Red is quick to place his hands on Karkat’s stomach, running his hands up the sides of his jacket up to the lapels of the collar. The action is so indulgent, something he’s imagined before hundreds of times. 

“I’ll say this,” Red says as Karkat’s attention turns toward his mouth. “I think this Dave guy sounds pretty goddamn lucky if you ask me. He’d be an idiot to not like you back.”

Karkat shakes his head a little, sadly. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear, but I know it’s your job to do that.” 

Dave huffs. “I’m saying that because I’ve never kissed or slept with a client, and you are seriously making me question the code right now.” 

Karkat’s eyes flash up to Dave’s through the mask. Dave can tell that got his attention because he sounds serious, even if some doubt is still written across his face. No, Karkat still doesn’t believe him. 

“You don’t believe me,” he says.

“I’m paying you to tell me what I want to hear, it’s not rocket science. I know what I signed up for. It’s fine I’m not paying for an ego boost. I just… well, you know now.” 

Dave bites his lip, kind of frustrated. He sighs and rocks a little on Karkat’s lap, the same position they’d been in when Karkat came to see him last time. He feels pretty comfortable sitting like that on his lap, honestly. 

“Did you think about Dave doing this with you, dancing for you?” He asks, deciding to take this in a different direction, one that’s risky but exhilarating. 

He can see Karkat’s eyes widen a little bit, as if caught. 

“Maybe,” he murmurs, and looks immediately guilty. 

“Would that be so wrong?” Bravely, Dave reaches down and takes both of Karkat’s wrists, pulling them up and placing them around him so that they are resting on his ass, over the garter straps. 

Karkat makes a confused noise. “I thought--” 

“You couldn’t touch us? We can touch you, can’t we? This is my permission to give big ol’ Red a nice squeeze.”

He can see Karkat turning red himself. “I’m not going to---”

“Do you not want to?” Usually these kind of interactions aren’t so much talking. 

“No--” 

“Touch me,” Dave demands and Karkat chokes a little. “I want you to touch me.” 

But he follows the request, fingers digging in the lightest squeeze before letting up. His fingers are immediately dragging down over the straps to the stockings, and then going back up. 

“I really wondered what this felt like,” he murmurs, voice hoarse with what Dave recognizes as arousal. 

“You actually were into it, weren’t you,” Red murmurs. Karkat’s face colors and darkens. “It’s not a bad thing. I like it when people like it.” 

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, so safe to say I'm into it,” Karkat growls. 

Fuck, that’s hot. Karkat had been thinking about this, possibly even agonizing over Red and all the things that make him similar to Dave. 

All the things that also make him Dave, because Dave is Red. 

Sort of. 

Dave can’t get too caught up in this even if he wants to. The job still must be adhered to, but it’s hard for him to not take a moment and feel amazing about it, because Karkat had actually wanted him, this side of him, at least. He’d tasted Red and sensed the parts of Dave he was, he was so close to knowing who Dave was as a whole, and _liking_ it. 

Dave’s still processing the fact that Karkat likes him, he barely even remembers the whole point of this. 

He’s been sitting there for several seconds, staring at Karkat’s face and biting his own lip. 

Karkat is staring back with something like confusion. “God, you look just like him, I swear.” 

Right. 

Dave gets off of Karkat and turns to head back to the pole. Dave hates having to leave him, but he has to focus on finishing this right now.

“Feel free to imagine I am him as much as you like,” Red says, and fuck, the irony is so rich and he can’t even tell anyone about it. 

As he sinks back into Red and prepares to dance on the pole for Karkat, he thinks about how maybe, as Dave, he might finally be able to tell him how he feels. 

Because Karkat likes Dave. 

He apparently likes Red too, if the way he’s leaning over the chair with a hand over his mouth is anything to go off of. He _is_ enjoying Red. 

It just fuels him even more. Red pulls himself up against the pole, undulates his hips against it so that the bulge of the panties is seen touching it. He swears that Karkat makes a small gasping noise. It’s an erotic move, evocative. 

Dave lifts himself into another pole hold, only using the crook of his knee, and then drops down into a split. 

Yes, he wants Karkat to know just how flexible he’s gotten over time, too. 

Hopefully it’ll be relevant later.

Red swings his legs around to exit the split and slides off the pole stage and onto his feet, making his way directly back to Karkat. 

He sits up in the chair as Red approaches, arms falling to his sides in surprise. Perfect. 

Red falls into handstand right before Karkat’s legs, going into the signature move of one of the female strippers on staff that he’s learned. 

He balances perfectly for a split second and let’s his ass fall backwards into Karkat’s chest. His legs are essentially straddling his face, the bulge really getting right up and personal for a moment. Red is smooth, flipping his torso back up to grasp around Karkat’s neck and sliding his ass down Karkat’s chest, legs falling down the side of the chair, until it makes contact with Karkat’s crotch and the undeniable hardness Red can feel this time.

Had that been there last time? Holy shit. 

He settles back into the same position as just before, straddling Karkat’s lap with his arms around his neck facing him. 

Karkat’s face has arousal written all over it. His mouth hangs open a little, eyes dark. 

Part of Dave wants to call it right then and there. He wants to take off the mask and tell Karkat that it’s him, it’s _Dave_ , but he can’t. 

No, if he’s going to tell Karkat, it needs to be on Dave’s terms. Not Red’s. As much as they are one in the same, they also aren’t. 

Red is far more of a palpable tease than he was last time. If he can’t kiss Karkat, at least he gets this. When he flips around again so he’s no longer facing Karkat he lets his ass shake a little against his crotch, and it’s far more hands on and filthy that Red would regularly do but he can’t help himself. He might regret it later, because what will that make Karkat think of Red? That he does this with everyone? 

“... I don’t usually do that.” He says. 

“Do what?” Karkat says, his voice thick with the undue. He clears his throat. 

“Dance on clients like that. But… you’re special.”

Karkat laughs a little, and god it’s such a sexy sound. “Why’s that?”

“Like I said, you’re special. And I’m not just saying that.”

“Alright, sure.” 

Red sighs. Karkat will know soon enough. 

“Thank you,” Karkat tells him when it’s over, and Dave can hear it this time, even see it, the arousal in his voice. How did he miss it last time? Had Karkat been trying to hide it? 

“Anytime, handsome,” Red drawls, looking at Karkat for one extra long second before he slips out. He wants to remember the want written all over that man’s face. 

He’s going to need to, soon, for when Dave finally tells Karkat who Red really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoy my writing and/or maybe want a say in how the next chapter turns out, hit me up on the HS writer's discord!: <https://discord.gg/tmtGNqe>
> 
> or leave a comment ig lol


	3. do you love me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that coronavirus joke in the last chapter aged like milk didn't it

The next day at work, Dave immediately sets about his preparations. He really only has a day to make this work, because tomorrow is _Valentine’s Day_. Maybe that’s cheesy, but Dave also doesn’t want to spend it alone if he can help it. 

He doesn’t want Karkat to be alone for it either, if… if he’ll have Dave. 

Even after he finds out he’s Red. 

He calls in the favor, telling himself that it’ll be okay. He’s also slightly relieved by the fact that Karkat is off today, leaving Dave unworried about running into him as he finalizes the preparations. 

Dave could barely sleep the night before, his mind racing as he laid in bed and thought about the idea that Karkat actually liked him. It felt amazing. 

It had been so hard not to kiss Karkat as Red. He could have, he really could have. 

But he’ll get to. Soon. 

-

Friday afternoon he picks up the two room keys to the suite he has for just the night. For Valentine’s Day. 

His body is humming with excitement, he can barely focus on the job as he waits for Karkat to come by. He knows he’s on the schedule today, he’s got to be there. 

It feels like he’s been holding his breath all day when Karkat slides on up to the bar and Dave finally relaxes. 

There’s a hardness to Karkat’s face, but Dave’s stomach and legs almost immediately turn to jelly upon seeing him. Karkat likes him, and Dave can now see past what must be the enforced visage. How will Karkat look at him after he finds out, after Dave tells him how he feels? 

There’s no time to ponder it. Dave sets the water in front of Karkat. Unfortunately, he’s a little preoccupied with other customers in the bar, so he can’t focus all his attention on the guard. 

“Thanks,” Karkat says. “How are you?” 

“A little busy right now, but uh,” he pauses and makes a show of patting down his body as he feels for the cards. He nods and pulls it out of his back pocket, flipping the little key holder to see both sides before he leans forward and slides it across the bar. 

Karkat blinks at him in confusion as Dave pulls away. “What’s this.” 

Dave shrugs and struggles to keep his face neutral. “A surprise.” 

Karkat reaches out and picks it up, flipping the little booklet open to the room number and the time Dave had written on there. 

His eyes flicker up in confusion to Dave’s, who can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.

“Is this… from you?” 

Dave shrugs. “Someone dropped it off for you.” The lie thankfully rolls off his tongue and he applauds himself for being so natural. 

Karkat opens his mouth to ask him another question but Dave just shakes his head and starts to walk down the bar to assist the other patrons. “You have an admirer. Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself, right?” 

Karkat is staring at him with his jaw dropped a little bit. The look on his face is priceless. 

“See you later,” Dave says and goes to engage another customer. 

-

Karkat flips the keycard over in his hands as he heads back to his post. When he went and checked with the front desk, the information about who acquired the room was under administrative override. 

One half of Karkat, the part of him that takes this job seriously, wonders why that is, and if he should pursue it. What if it’s a threat? 

The other half of him says to just go by himself. 

He can handle it, whatever it is. 

His mind wanders with possibilities, but one sticks out among the rest, a tempting and dangerous ‘What if?’

Dave had said someone dropped it off for him. 

A key to a room. The fact that Dave gave it to him was ironic enough, with no hesitation at all. 

Maybe Karkat had hoped Dave might have been jealous, enquired as to who he was meeting with. 

Oh come on, who is Karkat kidding? Last week he had to revisit a stripper just to make himself feel for an hour as if Dave liked him. It was all just a stupid fantasy, all of it. Karkat needed to leave the last week’s events in the past. 

The plastic key feels almost heavier in his hands as he thinks about it. 

He doesn’t have time to get to the bottom of it, the time that he’s supposed to go to the room is essentially the time he can leave the casino floor. It’s almost perfect. Almost, because this will inevitably be a mistake. If Karkat had really wanted to know who was behind this mysterious booking he could have found out, but he didn’t. Part of him didn’t want to. 

The excitement and curiosity builds and builds as he watches the dealers and gamblers, the minutes ticking by slower than usual. 

Then finally, finally, he’s off his shift. He’s racing towards the elevators, the keycard burning a hole through the jacket pocket where he put it. 

Karkat doesn’t pass many people on the way and it’s not like it matters, no one is going to raise an eyebrow at a member of the security enforcement going somewhere. Soon he’s standing in front of the room, pulling the jacket tight along his shoulders and steeling himself. 

He slides the key in and the light flashes green. Karkat pushes the door open and pockets the key again, eyes wide as the door opens to…. Dave?

Confusion washes over him as he steps inside and lets the door click solidly shut behind him. The bartender, his crush, turns around from the window to look at him. 

It’s a nice room. 

“Dave?” Karkat asks stupidly. 

Dave steps away from the window and adjusts one of the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s in the same outfit he wears to work- the button down shirt and slacks. 

He’s so handsome. He’s always so handsome, so beckoningly touchable yet so far away- the distance of the bar counter, the inability for Karkat to get their relationship past surface level besides internally desperately wanting to. He’s always just getting in his own way. 

“Hey,” Dave reponds, a strange smile on his face. Karkat’s heart flutters. “Surprise.” 

“I… Yes, alright, I must admit I’m pretty surprised. But I, uh…. Dave, what are you doing here?” 

At that Dave smirks and holds his arms out to both sides before letting them fall. “Well, obviously, this is my room.”

Karkat swallows. “But uh. You said someone… someone else dropped off the key.” 

Dave shrugs. “I lied.” 

Karkat has so many questions, and he opens his mouth to start asking, but Dave holds out a hand to quiet him. 

“I can tell you’re confused. Why don’t you sit down?” Dave gestures at the bed. “There’s uh… something I need to tell you.” 

Of all the things Karkat thought he would ever get to see, himself in the same room as a bed with Dave was not one of them, even if he had maybe fantasized about the scenario a handful of times. 

More than a handful of times. 

Karkat acquiesces, nodding and going to sit on the edge of the bed Dave had been motioning to. Dave steps out of the way to allow him, almost keeping a distance from him. He looks up at Dave questioningly. “Alright, I’m sitting. What’s the deal? Did… Did something happen? Do you need help?” 

Dave chuckles darkly. “Yes? No? I don’t know how to answer that.” With that Dave shrugs, looking right into his eyes. He pauses and inhales sharply before breathing out slowly. 

Karkat’s heart is pounding. He’s so confused. 

“You know,” Dave continues, “I’m not used to seeing you without a counter in between us.” he says as he shakes out his arm, beginning to unroll his sleeves. 

“Me… either…” Karkat says, watching Dave with rapt confusion. “I… What are you doing?”

Dave just shakes his head a little. “You really don’t get it yet, do you?” He’s grinning, though. 

What then startles Karkat is that he starts to unbutton his shirt. At first Dave’s eyes are on the buttons, but then he lifts them to meet Karkat’s in a searing gaze. Karkat swallows slowly in response to the intensity of it. His eyes don’t know where to look, caught between Dave’s face and the movement of his fingers undoing each button, achingly slow.

“Why are you…” Karkat starts to say, his mouth going dry as he realizes that his crush is starting to _take off his clothes_ in front of him. 

Dave huffs. “I really wasn’t sure how I was going to tell you, but then I figured, hey, might as well show you, right?” 

“Show me…?” 

Dave shrugs off the shirt and it slides off his arms and to the ground, and Karkat’s eyes widen and simultaneously rake over his body, hungrily taking it in, even as part of him knows this is kind of wrong-- Dave shouldn’t be doing this, and Karkat shouldn’t be watching. He shouldn’t want to watch. 

As always, Karkat finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away from him. 

Dave is fit, toned muscle all the way down his chest and abdomen leading into his pants. Karkat has shamefully wondered day after day what those button down shirts he wore for work hid under them, as if the bit of forearm Dave was able to show at the bar was but a mere sample of the rest.

Along with it, Karkat is struck with creeping deja vu. An inexplicable familiarity. 

“This.” 

With that Dave undoes the button of his pants, his fingers slowly pulling down the zipper, each action almost planned and deliciously, achingly slow. 

He pulls them down to reveal… _red_. 

Red lace over the flat of his stomach, across the top of his hip bones. 

Karkat’s eyes go wide as Dave reveals this to him. 

The bartender is chuckling as he shoves the pants the rest of the way down and steps out of them, and it’s only then that Karkat realizes he hadn’t been wearing shoes. 

It doesn’t matter, it’s not like he needed them for the teasing thigh wrapping end of his stocking to make his legs any more tantalizing. 

“Well, darlin’,” Dave says in a jarringly different Texan accent. A shiver starts at the top of Karkat’s spine and runs all the way down. “I figured it was about time I should come clean to you.” 

Karkat can only stare at him with a completely dropped jaw, face all shock. 

“... Karkat?” 

The name said like that, in _that voice_ but still absolutely Dave, makes his breath shudder out. 

“Red,” he finally says, unable to stop staring at Dave. “You’re… You’re Red.” 

Dave glances down at his body and the clothes, or lack thereof rather, and back up at Karkat. “It does appear that I am indeed also a stripper who goes by the name ‘Red’, er, yes.” 

Karkat puts a hand to his mouth, unable to take his eyes off Dave… off Dave in _Red’s outfit_. 

_Because Dave is Red._

Unable to respond, Karkat just stares with wide eyes as a thousand thoughts rush through his head, trying to comprehend the events of the last week under a new lens. His heart pounds, blood rushing hot under his skin as he considers all these interactions with the newfound knowledge that _Dave is Red_. 

It makes so much more sense while none of it does… The text messages from the mysterious number. Dave’s odd behavior for those few days… 

It’s not that Karkat isn’t also remembering that someone hurt Red for the information he heard, meaning _Dave_ was the one who was hurt. Yes, Karkat is upset Dave didn’t go to him immediately, but his mind is hurtling towards another conclusion. A question.

_Why?_

As his half his mind spins in one direction, the other half keeps going. If Dave is Red, then he knows Karkat came back to the strip club. 

The whole conversation about why Karkat came back… where _he told Red he liked Dave_.

“Uh, could you maybe say something? I’m really kind of throwing myself out on a limb here with this—“ 

Karkat blinks as he registers what Dave just said. “ _You’re_ throwing yourself out on a limb?! I told you I liked you! To your face!!” This is all so entirely humiliating. Karkat rubs a miserable hand down his face and his shoulders drop, folding in on himself. 

He went and confessed his feelings for someone to a stripper, who ended up being said person. 

_Embarrassing_.

Silence immediately follows, with Dave standing there with his jaw hanging open as he stares down at Karkat. 

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and watching Karkat seems to come to a conclusion of his own.

“Wait, Karkat, hold on, you’ve got it all wrong, I—“

“Listen, Dave, I’m sorry you got your ass kicked because you heard something you shouldn’t have but if you could kindly get this over with so I can wallow in my sadness and mortifying humiliation and _get over you_ , that would be great!”

“Wow. You really don’t get it, so you?” As Dave says it, Karkat isn’t looking at him, he’s got his face in his hands but he can hear the frown. 

“What’s there to get?!” Karkat snaps, pulling his face up from his hands. 

Dave doesn’t answer because he’s immediately climbing into Karkat’s lap and straddling him on the bed. Karkat leans back in surprise. 

“What the—“ Karkat starts but is swiftly cut off. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it was not to tell you when you walked back into that room again the other day? Do you know how hard it was not to kiss you when you told me you liked me, when I’ve been into your sexy ass for months now and beating myself over the head over why I just couldn’t get closer to you?”

Karkat leans back staring at Dave with wide eyes as he leans in closer, both of his hands working their way up Karkat’s abdomen over his chest, up to his neck and around. 

“I don’t kiss clients, but do you have any idea how hard it was to not kiss you?” 

It’s not so much deja vu now as much as practically a flashback, and Karkat doesn’t know what to do with his hands besides taking handfuls of the bedding to steady himself.

“Is this fucked up?” Dave laughs breathlessly, a little incredulous as his fingers slide into Karkat’s hair. “Should I stop? Should I have asked for permission first? Is it bad that I feel like we crossed that line already? I didn’t think you would ever be into me. And even if you were, I didn’t know if you’d be down with _Red_ either.”

His hand tangles in Karkat’s hair, gripping suddenly. 

“Turns out I was wrong on both accounts. So if it wasn’t obvious, I have no intention of letting you get over me,” Dave says. 

It happens so fast. 

Suddenly Dave is kissing him.

Karkat gasps into his mouth but opens up into it, immediately starving to taste Dave. _Red_. 

Dave breaks away for a moment to speak against his lips. “You can touch me, you know. God, I want you to touch me so fucking badly…” 

Karkat’s hands are off the bed and on Dave’s bare chest in less than a second. His hands move over around his shoulders, to Dave’s back, to hold him just like that while they kiss for those delicious few seconds. 

They stop eventually, panting a little. 

Karkat pulls back a little to look at Dave -- Red? 

“I’m such an idiot,” he finally says. One of his thumbs is mindlessly stroking Dave’s back, up and down. 

“Hey now, in your defense I could have told you. I mean…. I should have. Sooner.” 

“You’re literally the same person! Though... I will admit it was hard to imagine that Dave could also be Red, you’re so… different.”

“Was it the part about being a stripper?” Dave asks with Red’s Texan accent this time.

Karkat is still thrown off by that, he even jumps a little. “That sounds so strange coming out of your mouth like that,” he sighs ruefully. “Fuck. You are the same person. I really don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner.” 

“Well, I dunno. In some ways we’re kind of not. Red is…. A lot of things Dave isn’t.” 

“How so?” 

“I mean… I am Red. I’m also kind of not. Because Red is everyone’s fantasy, they can’t stop watching him. And Dave is… Dave is just some guy with an exhibitionist streak.” He swallows thickly and looks away. “He’s also kind of in love with you… and he had to be Red to tell you that.” 

Karkat is knocked completely breathless with that. 

He fights for the words, the right thing to say right now. 

“You know… I felt so ashamed when I went back to see Red, because he reminded me so much of you. I felt even more ashamed that I wanted him so badly too. I just… I just can’t believe I get to have both you, now. If… If I can, I mean.” 

“Sweetheart,” Dave murmurs, that drawl doing weird things to Karkat’s chest, leaning in to kiss him again. “You have all of me. Hell, I’ll even quit the stripper gig. I just, wow, fuck. I really don’t want to mess this up.” 

“Me either,” Karkat barely gets to say before Dave is kissing him again. 

It’s…. Well, yeah. There’s still a lot to think about. A lot more for them to talk about. 

For a long time there was a door between them and now it’s been kicked down. Whereas once Karkat didn’t think he could ever get the courage to tell Dave how he felt, the man is now sitting in his lap kissing him like he’ll suffocate if he stops. 

He breaks away to kiss at Dave’s neck. “Hey,” he says, lips moving against his skin. He smells so good, tastes even better… “Do you wanna get a drink with me sometime?” 

Dave’s responding laugh has Karkat grinning and pulling him back into another, even more elated kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will add another chapter to this that is basically the fucc™ but for now this story is done, thank you for reading!! 
> 
> Here's a fic playlist I made if you're into that: [my funny valentine](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0yl9gRRiHkYG6Nj5yYj6eL?si=S-N10AMcQG-RvZs0jGbD5Q)


End file.
